Oneshot - Young life taken to soon
by River of Broken Souls
Summary: It says in the warrior code that a cat younger than six moons should never come near the battlefield. Sadly, some cats don't follow the code, apprenticing kits as early as three moons old. One cold night, a battle breaks out, and kits are thrown onto the battlefield. And for one, this night is his last. The night where one enters the battle a kit, and leaves a warrior.


**Caesar's Palace Prompts:**

-Challenges by the dozen: Write **three** fics about your favourite characters (1). ((Badgerfang - Warriors))

* * *

 _Young Life Taken to Soon_

The small cat stood in line with his clan mates, gazing ahead. The light wind blew through the night sky, brushing through his fluffy black and white kitten fur. His usually happy amber eyes were narrowed but they shone with uncertainty. A line of cats stood around him, waiting. Most of them were full grown warriors, though there were a couple of kits in the mix as well. Beside the kit stood a larger tom. He had pale grey fur and piercing amber eyes, opposite of the kits warm amber eyes. The kit looked towards the cat beside him. When the grey tom noticed the kits presence, he smiled softly.

"Are you ready for your first battle Badgerpaw?"

The tom asked. His vocal expression said that he was proud of his apprentice, though his eyes told a different story. They were filled with worry and doubt. Still, Badgerpaw nodded.

"I was born ready!"

He squeaked, his voice high pitched. The grey tom studied his apprentice for a moment. Bending his head downwards, her ran his tongue over the kits forehead. Then he stood back, smiling once again.

"I'm sure you'll do great."

He murmured, drawing his eyes away from the kit. Instead he trained them on the moor ahead.

"I'll make you proud Flintfang!"

The kitten exclaimed, his amber eyes shinning. Instead of replying the grey tom nodded. Then he turned his eyes to the sky, sending a silent prayer to Starclan.

 _Please don't let him die tonight._

* * *

The night chill had worsened, a frigid wind blowing strongly through the gathered warriors. Then, after a moment of complete silence, the first battle cry echoed across the dusty moor.

* * *

The swarm of cats made their way across the moor, kicking up clouds of dirt as they went. Inside the group of cats a small black and white kit struggled to keep up with the group. His paws flailed as he pushed himself forwards, his chest moving rapidly with every breath. He pushed onward, determined to keep up. Soon he heard the cries of shock from the Windclan camp as they broke through the small gorse barrier.

Without hesitation, the black and white tom launched himself into battle. He could see his clan mates fighting beside him, clawing and hissing at the Windclan cats. The scrawny moor runners didn't stand a chance against the brutal strength of Shadowclan. Suddenly a scream reached his ears. Whirling around, he spotted one of his clan mates facing two Windclan toms. Hissing, he leapt towards the two, jumping onto one of the toms.

The tom let out a squeal of surprise, struggling to shake the kitten off. Badgerpaw hung on as if his life depended on it, refusing to let go. He sunk his claws into the tom, earning a howl of pain. Suddenly, he felt teeth sink into his throat. Pain sliced through him like a claw, causing him to let go. He was flung off of the tom, his fragile body landing with a sickening thud on the dusty moor.

* * *

He could barely keep his eyes open. The battle still raged around him, but the screams and hisses sounded faint, as if they were a million miles away. Waves of agonizing pain flew through his body. He took a shuddering breath, his chest shaking with effort. He was scared, more than ever before. He was dying, and he knew it. Gasping for air, he let out a weak call for help.

"Flintfang..."

He was able to get out before a spasm of coughs racked his body. And suddenly, his mentor was there, standing right beside him. The tom nuzzled his fur, sadness in his eyes. Badgerpaw lay his amber gaze on his, attempting to give a weak smile.

"Don't be said. I *cough* I'm going to see my warrior ancestors!"

Badgerpaw spoke, smiling at his mentor. A single tear fell from his mentor's amber eyes, landing on the dusty moor. Flintfang leaned over and ran his tongue across the kitten's forehead, attempting to comfort the young cat. Really, he was trying to comfort himself.

"Do you think I'll be a warrior in Starclan?"

The young tom asked, his breaths becoming shallower as he spoke. Flintfang tried to smile, tried to wipe the sadness from his gaze.

"You can be a warrior now. What would you like your name to be?"

He spoke softly, gazing at the tom. Badgerpaw's gaze lit up and he only hesitated a moment before answering.

"I want to be Badgerfang. Like you, because you were such a great mentor."

Flintfang turned his head away from the young tom, his heart breaking in two.

"I hope Brokenstar is proud of me. And my mom."

Badgerfang whispered, his voice becoming quieter as he became weaker.

"Fernshade will be very proud of you."

Flintfang whispered, another tear running down his cheek.

"Are you proud of me?"

The young kit asked softly. Flintfang could only nod, another tear falling down his cheeks. Badgerfang looked at him for a moment and smiled. Then, his eyes drifted closed. A tiny sigh escaped his mouth before his chest stopped moving.

Flintfang turned his head towards the stars, unable to look at the kitten's dead body.

"Goodbye Badgerfang. You're the bravest warrior I've ever met. You will shine so brightly in Starclan, I promise you."

In the sky, a small star twinkled.


End file.
